


First Body

by Newrose12



Series: Before it all began [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-09 20:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1150381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newrose12/pseuds/Newrose12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade finally calls Sherlock in on his first crime scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Body

He knew he's going to regret this, really he does, but he needs an outside pair of eyes to take in the crime scene, find the clues that he and his team have missed. Glancing back at his team, he turns back to his phone and scrolls down to the 'H' and presses the call button when he gets to the right one.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade," comes a voice after the fourth ring.

"Holmes," Greg replied, rubbing his face, still debating with himself, even as he says the words that will change their lives, "I need you at a crime scene."

\----------------------------------------

Sherlock can't contain the grin on his face as he leaves his flat, passing the drunk on the stairs who watches him wearily and ignores the people who give him odd looks. His first crime scene, well not technically his first, but he knew that Lestrade wouldn't be happy to find out he hadn't stuck to just case files.

It's been six months since he met the DI, three months since he'd been out of rehab and two months since he'd moved out of the flat his brother had set up for him to a run down boarding house on the other side of London. Mycroft had been furious of course, not being able to watch his every move, but Sherlock didn't mind, there at the boarding house, no one cared about the smells coming from your flat. On one hand, most of the smells that wafted out smelled better than the people living around him, and on the other, he knew he was raising his brother's blood pressure by living there.

He hailed a cab and gave the address, still grinning like a loon, he was going to be on the scene, they were going to actually hear what he had to say, there was a fresh body waiting for him, he was excited.

\-----------------------------------------

Greg was on his third cigarette by the time Sherlock stepped out of the cab, a maniacal grin on his face and he had to close his eyes and count to ten before approaching the other man. The man had hung up before he had given him the address, but here he was. He had suspected that Sherlock had some way of listening in on the police, but he wasn't sure, until now, he just didn't know how he did it.

"Holmes," he said and the other man turned towards him, the grin still in place, it was a frightening sight, he'd never seen the other man do more than smile at most, he smirked almost all of the time. "Do you think you can tone down the excitement, just a bit?" he demanded.

"Why?" the other man asked, "this is exciting Lestrade, you get to see me in action," he went on and started towards the house where the police officers were standing around but the other mans hand on his arm stopped him.

"A few rules first," Lestrade said, and removed his hand when Sherlock looked down at it, "don't talk to anyone, I don't need you pissing my people off, don't touch anything and for the love of God, wipe that grin off your face."

"Why?" Sherlock demanded, the grin hadn't gone away but it had shrunk some.

"Because, the only people who walk into a crime scene with a grin like that are psychopaths and serial killers, they might arrest you on the spot thinking you did it."

"Have you had many killers come back to their own crime scenes?" Sherlock asked dubiously.

"Well, no," Greg replied and Sherlock shook his head.

"Then how do you know a killer would walk in with a grin? In all likely hood, he'd try to blend in, act like one of your people, not draw attention to himself."

"Right," Greg said flatly, "also, don't tell them your name, they might arrest you on principle."

"Is there anything else I should not do?" Sherlock drawled and Greg glared at him, really regretting this now.

"No, that's it," he said and Sherlock nodded before turning to walk to the house. "Holmes," Greg yelled and the other man stopped but didn't turn.

"What Lestrade?" he asked, sounding irritated and Greg moved until he was standing next to the other man.

"Can we at least pretend that you don't know what you know, that I brought you in and you don't know where you're going?" Sherlock turned to stare at him for a long moment before he waved a hand in front of him and Greg stepped forward, leading the way to the house. They walked past several officers, most glancing at him curiously before turning away again and in through the front door.

"Here, put these on," Greg said, handing him a blue, plastic jumpsuit and gloves.

"I brought my own," Sherlock said, pulling out a pair of plastic gloves and received a blank stare in return. "Serial killer?" he asked and the DI let out a breath.

"Serial killer," he responded, glad that no one was close enough to have seen the interaction. Sherlock stuffed the gloves he had brought back into his pocket and took the ones Greg held out. "Remember, don't say anything to anyone," he repeated as they headed further in to the house.

"Who's this?" a voice asked from their left and Sherlock turned to find a young woman with dark skin and dark frizzy hair looking at him curiously.

"I'm... John," Sherlock replied, realizing that Lestrade had moved further in to the house without realizing that he had stopped to look at a few pictures.

"Just John?" she asked.

"Smith, John Smith," Sherlock replied.

"And what are you doing here? Are you lost? This is a crime scene you know," she went on, not unkindly, but not inviting either.

"He's with me Donovan," Greg said, having realized quickly that Sherlock wasn't with him and had rushed back the way he came to find him.

"Oh, sorry sir," the Donovan said, nodding to Sherlock before walking off.

"Come on, don't lag behind," Greg said and turned to walk away.

"You don't like her," Sherlock observed.

"What?" the DI asked, shooting an incredulous look over his shoulder, "of course I like her, she's my junior officer."

"You flinched when she talked to you," Sherlock pointed out.

"I did not," Greg protested.

"You did, is it because she's smarter than you? Or is it because she's a woman? Are you attracted to her?" Sherlock stopped quickly when the man rounded on him, a finger in his face.

"Don't pull that shit on me Hol- Smith," he said, glancing around at the other officers who were walking past them, "I don't like it when she calls me 'sir', that's all." Any response that Sherlock might have given was lost when they stepped in to what looked to be a master bedroom.

In the middle of the room a man was hanging from a noose tied to one of the beams that ran the length of the room. He was naked and swayed slightly, his toes brushing the bedspread of the king sized bed pushed against the wall. Sherlock felt excitement rise up in him again, and almost stepped forward but glanced at the DI, not wanting to piss him off again.

"Go ahead," the other man said, jutting his chin towards the body, "show me what you can do."

Sherlock didn't need another invitation, so he moved into the room and up to the bed, noticing the clothes folded neatly just under the pillow that was on the left side of the bed. On the side table next to the bed, there was a set of keys and a leather wallet. Picking up the wallet, he sifted through it before placing it back where it was. Picking up the keys, he stared at them, before also returning them tot he table. Glancing up, he spotted the door to the bathroom was open and stepped inside, taking in all that was around him.

"Aren't you going to examine the body?" Lestrade asked, having followed him into the bathroom.

"He's dead," Sherlock responded with a shrug, "what else would you like me to examine about him?" Lestrade opened his mouth to respond but just then, another officer came up to his side and whispered something in his ear.

"I'll be right back," he said to Sherlock, "remember what I said." Sherlock waved him off and went back to examining the bathroom. It was mostly tidy, with the usual toiletries about the place, he opened the medicine cabinet and drawers before entering the bedroom once again. Moving around the bed, he was kneeling on the carpet to examine it when he heard someone walk up behind him.

"It was the wife," he said, turning but found that it wasn't Lestrade behind him like he thought it would be.

"What?" the man who was there asked, he had dark hair and a thin frame and an air of haughty arrogance about him. "What do you mean it was the wife, and who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Anderson," Lestrade's voice broke in and the man in front of Sherlock looked up, "he's with me."

"Well who is he?" the other man demanded, "and what is he doing in my crime scene?"

"Your crime scene?" Sherlock asked, knowing that he would never like this man, "are you saying you're the culprit?"

"What are you talking about?" Anderson rounded on him at the same time that Lestrade hissed 'Smith' at him.

"Anderson, he's a consultant I brought in, I wanted his opinion, so leave off, Smith, what were you saying about the wife?'

"The wife did it," Sherlock restated and ignored Andersen's snort of disbelief.

"How is that possible?" he asked, "she weighs one hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet."

"How would you know?" Sherlock asked, rounding on him, but Lestrade pulled him back around.

"The wife Smith," he said in a warning tone.

"He was having an affair, she found out, she killed him for it."

"Based on what?!" Anderson cried and Sherlock looked at him again but Lestrade forced his focus on him.

"Based on what?" he asked and Sherlock sighed before pulling away from the DI and picking up the wallet.

"There are two gym memberships in there," he said, tossing it to Lestrade.

"So?" Lestrade asked, looking at the cards that proved that the dead man had the two memberships.

"Who do you know that has two gym memberships? Most gym's are universal, you can use one card for any of their facilities, whether it be here, or Antarctica. They are from two different gym's, one is a mainstream gym, the other," he said, holding up his phone which he had used to look up the second gym, "is an all male gym."

"So you're saying that he was having an affair with a man?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock nodded.

"Just because he goes to an all male gym, doesn't mean he was having an affair," Anderson broke in and Sherlock took a deep breath.

"Smith, concentrate," Lestrade said and Sherlock turned back to the side table and picked up the keys.

"There are three extra keys on here," he said holding each up as he went through them, "house key, car key, what is probably his office key and two others. This key," he said holding up the smallest one, "probably belongs to a locker at the gym. This key," he said holding up the last, "is probably to another flat, maybe it's where they go when they are together. It's possibly his partner's home, maybe a flat they got together, purely for that purpose, who knows."

"How can you possibly know which key goes to which?" Anderson demanded.

"The house key," he said, holding it up, "well worn, has wear around the teeth, used all the time, the brand of the key has been worn down: house key. Car key, obvious," he said, pointing out the car's make on it. "Office key, worn, but not as much as the house key, made by the Klausson key company, a company that makes keys only used in office settings. Gym key, something I think your tiny little brain will understand, and what I assume is the flat key, new, maybe three months old,"

"So you're saying that he's been having this affair for three months?" Lestrade asked before Anderson could say anything.

"No, it's been going on for years," Sherlock replied, walking in to the bathroom, the others following him, they had attracted several of the other officers while they were standing about and they were all curious now.

"But you just said," Lestrade started but Sherlock shot him a look.

"They got the flat three months ago, they've been sleeping together for years," he said, finishing at the medicine cabinet, pulling out two deodorants from behind the mirror.

"Why would the wife do it though?" Anderson snapped on and Sherlock sighed and looked at the officers staring back, biting back the snide comment he wanted to make for Lestrade's sake.

"Are you married?" he demanded of the other man.

"Yes, why?"

"Surprising," Sherlock muttered to himself, receiving a hateful glare from Anderson and a warning one from Lestrade. "If you found out your wife was having an affair and you gave her a second chance, and she swore she wouldn't do it again, that she'd call it off what if you found out she was lying? You come to find out later that she is still being unfaithful, in fact she never stopped, that she's meeting with her lover at a flat they share, what would you do?"

"I wouldn't kill her," Anderson cried, sounding offended that Sherlock would think that of him.

"You don't know that, if it were in the heat of the moment, you might snap, beat her within an inch of her life, or hang her from the rafters," he said pointing to the body in the other room. He glanced at Lestrade when the other man cleared his throat and one thing ran through his head 'Serial Killer' and he nodded back in understanding.

"But how did she find out?" Donovan asked from the front of the group and Sherlock held up the two deodorants. "Deodorant?"

"He brought his lover's deodorant home."

"Maybe he bought it," Lestrade pointed out but Sherlock shook his head.

"He was trying to hide his affair, if you're hiding an affair, you don't change anything about you, you buy the same deodorant, same aftershave or perfume, same toothpaste, anything to avoid suspicion. He wouldn't have bought this, especially if there was a chance she would recognize it as the other mans."

"Why keep it then?" Donovan asked.

"Why indeed," Sherlock said, placing the deodorants on the counter once more and pushing his way out of the bathroom.

"Sherlock, the deodorants," Lestrade called after him for an explanation, not realizing that he had used Sherlock's real name.

"He kept it, obviously, not sure why, maybe for sentimental value, who knows," Sherlock said, going back to the side of the bed where he had been before, examining the carpet.

"He kept deodorant for sentimental value?" Anderson sneered.

"I don't know," Sherlock said, popping his head up as he crawled around the bed, examining the carpet, "people do stupid things when in love. Perhaps they had a fight, or took a break, but either way, his affair with his lover didn't end when he told her it would. Where is the note?" he asked, standing once again and looking around.

"What note?" Lestrade asked.

"His suicide note, if he committed suicide, where is his note?"

"He didn't leave one, at least one that we found," Donovan answered this time.

"What kind of person doesn't leave a note?" Sherlock demanded.

"Holmes, there is no note, not every suicidal person leaves a note."

"You leave a note," Sherlock said very seriously and Lestrade saw something slide behind his eyes but it was gone a second later as he turned away. "No note, no suicide," he declared a moment later, "when do I get to examine the body?" he asked, turning back to the officers there.

"You don't," Lestrade responded and Sherlock looked horrified at the idea that he wouldn't get access to it.

"How did she pull it off, she's too small to be able to pull a man almost twice her size over that beam," Donovan pointed out.

"Do I have to do your job for you?" Sherlock snapped, cranky now that he had been denied the opportunity to examine the dead man.

"Holmes," Lestrade said in a low voice and the other man shot him an exasperated look.

"She is also having an affair, there's a man at her gym that she's been sleeping with, probably convinced him to do it. Go ask her," he said and went to step out of the room.

"How can you possibly know that?" Anderson demanded and Sherlock stopped with a huff.

"There are pictures downstairs of her and this man, if you look closely, you will see that they are more than friends. Confront her and she'll crack, I promise." With that, he walked out of the house and stood outside before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

"You're Sherlock Holmes," a voice said from behind him and he turned to find Donovan there.

"How did you guess?" he asked, knowing that Lestrade had slipped up and said his name several times.

"Lestrade called you Sherlock and then Holmes, not too hard to put the pieces together."

"I'm sure Anderson won't get it," Sherlock said, holding out his cigarette pack which she waved away with a snort.

"He's not a bad guy, he's just territorial, especially when he thinks someone is trying to do his job for him."

"Well if he could do his job, there wouldn't be people like me doing it for him."

"You really are as good as they say you are," she said, sounding a bit awed.

"They?" he asked curiously, wanting to know who his fans at Scotland Yard were.

"Well, when I say 'they' I mean Lestrade, you've got him convinced you're the best you know," she said and glanced back when she heard her name called. "Just don't let him down, yeah?" Sherlock 'hmmed' as she walked away.

\------------------------------

Received 11:58 pm  
'You were right, wife set it up, cracked in under an hour.' -Lestrade

Sent: 11:59pm  
'Of course I was. When is my next case?' -SH

Received: 12:04am  
'Anderson went above my head, I'm not supposed ask you for your help anymore' -Lestrade

Sent: 12:09 am  
'They didn't know before, they don't need to know now.' -SH

Received: 1:47am  
'I'll bring it by tomorrow.' -Lestrade

**Author's Note:**

> So Lestrade and Sherlock have their own 'not good' phrase, also, Donovan is kinda nice, I figured at one point, they might have been close, there was too much pain in her voice when she said that Sherlock always lets them down, or I read it that way anyway, so I'm going to play on that. And though I love what they have done with Anderson since the new series began, he's a jerk now because that's what he was in the beginning. I think I'm going to introduce him to Molly next. And as for the grin he is wearing in the beginning, if you've seen 'The Sign of the Three', imagine 'that' grin, the terrifying one.


End file.
